tangled in a memory
still reaching to the source,
the source
from which life came,
from which all life comes;
a source so dangerous
that to reach too closely
will end the life it dealt;
we are in the right place
not too close
not too far
where we need to be;
but still we reach
out from the gift
of place that we inhabit
to return
to a memory
to the time we can not remember
when we were the source
we were the light
before we were structure
with spark
we road the solar wind
it is a memory
but not clear
for if it were clear
we would not need to reach
until the day our structure crumbles
and the spark goes home.
_________________________
I think there is more to this rambling thought, but i will stop here for now
Jeff
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